


A Winter's Night

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic, Feelings, Friendship, Gift Giving, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25834465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley meet up on a cold winter's night
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63





	A Winter's Night

The snow glittered like diamonds, the horizon vanishing in a sea of whiteness. Aziraphale didn't feel cold, but the wind whipped his hair and sent the diamonds skittering across the surface.

It was an inhospitable place, but it was where Crowley had said he would meet him, so Aziraphale was patiently waiting.

Crowley appeared like a storm on the horizon, a dark shape against the endless white. He drew closer as the sun set, his lanky form the only shadow.

Aziraphale's eyes were only for Crowley, not even noticing the profusion of soft purple and pink behind him. 

Crowley gave Aziraphale a smirky sort of not-quite-a-smile as he reached Aziraphale. "Evening," he said, as if they were ensconced in a little shop in London and not a million miles away from anything.

"Hello," said Aziraphale politely. "How was the journey?"

Crowley shrugged. "It's Siberia. Not exactly what I'd pick for a vacation spot."

"There is beauty here," said Aziraphale. "In fact, in the spring there will be flowers. I can feel them waiting."

Crowley looked at his feet a moment, then back up at Aziraphale. Above them, the first stars were starting to twinkle into view. "Had some work up here and I heard you were in the neighborhood."

"Not exactly, but close enough."

Crowley miracled a sofa into existence and flopped onto it. Aziraphale perched next to him and he conjured a cup of tea for him.

"Ah, thank you," said Aziraphale politely.

Comfortable silence stretched out between them as the temperature plummeted. Neither man nor beast would be out on a night like this, fortunately, they were of other stock.

"It is nice to see you," ventured Aziraphale after a little while.

Crowley had taken his glasses off and was looking up at the stars. He stirred, almost as if he'd forgotten Aziraphale was there. "Yeah. Oh, I've got something for you," he said, completely failing at sounding nonchalant. 

Fortunately, Aziraphale was quite used to that and only smiled at him. "You do?"

Crowley reached into the satchel he'd slung over his shoulder and took out a book. It smelled like leather and new pages.

"Oh, Crowley," said Aziraphale, beaming as he took it from him.

"Yeah, this Tolstoy bloke is something. Thought you might like a first edition. And he signed it."

Aziraphale opened the cover. Crowley watched him as he flipped through the book and set it aside. "Thank you," he said.

"Welcome," said Crowley, looking away from Aziraphale's warm gaze and back up at the stars.

Aziraphale hesitated, then scooted a little closer to him on the sofa. "Tell me about that one," he said, pointing upward.

It was a game they played, sometimes. Aziraphale would point at the sky and Crowley would pick a star and tell him something about making it. It was a thing they did when they were far from cities and the sprawl of man, when the sky unfolded above them like a magnificent twinkling carpet, the milky way spilling out like milk through a cup of dark tea.

Crowley's voice was quiet as he spoke. Aziraphale listened attentively, imagining the things Crowley described, remembering when the universe was new and all things seemed possible. Before war in heaven, before the fall of man, before an angel and a demon stood on the wall around Eden and looked out at the world side by side.

It had been a very long time since then, and yet, here they were, still seeking out one another, sometimes in the business of life, sometimes in the stillness and quiet of the wild.

Crowley put his arm on the back of the sofa and Aziraphale felt the shadow of his wing around him. The stars had turned in their spheres as Crowley had talked, though dawn was still hours away in this midwinter cathedral.

"I suppose I should go," sighed Crowley, getting reluctantly to his feet.

Aziraphale opened his mouth, not even certain what he wanted to say. He stood and stepped closer, only for Crowley to snap his fingers, sending the mug and the sofa back to wherever they came from.

For a moment Crowley caught his gaze and Aziraphale saw something in his eyes that made his heart ache. Then Crowley slid his glasses back on and turned away. "See you around, angel."

"Come by the bookshop next time you're in London," said Aziraphale, clutching the book to his chest.

"Sure," said Crowley, glancing back at him one more time before all but vanishing into the darkness.

Aziraphale sometimes felt alone, but this felt as if Crowley had taken the warmth of the world with him. And perhaps he had. Aziraphale glanced up at the stars a moment longer, wondering why he felt like Crowley was his magnetic opposite. An angel and a demon should repel each other. Instead, he never quite whole without him.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Aziraphale glanced down at the book, then tucked it under his arm and started walking in another direction.

They would come together again, likely somewhere more hospitable. He always enjoyed Crowley's presence at the bookshop, feet stretched out towards the fire and a drink in his hand.

Soon enough, Crowley would come around. He always did. Behind Aziraphale the land was quiet, carrying only the whisper of snow blown by the wind. Hardly a trace was left in his passing though perhaps the few people that did live out this way slept better that night than they had before.


End file.
